Official Secrets
by Funky In Fishnet
Summary: Fitz still sees Simmons, even though he knows that she's not there. He's glad of Hunter's understanding presence and touches. He's glad to see Clint Barton, who has arrived to report in with Coulson. Hunter can't understand why everyone thinks it's funny when he talks about Clint's wife.


_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing._

_**Author Note: **Set before episode 2x05 'A Hen In The Wolf House.'_

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><p><strong>OFFICIAL SECRETS<strong>

Fitz had been working non-stop all morning on a series of backlog projects that Coulson had pointed him towards. He'd been on a roll, his hands moving quickly and his mind focused. At some point Mack had put a glass of water at Fitz's elbow and Hunter had brought him tea and a prawn salad sandwich that'd been unexpected but it'd stopped his stomach's rumblings. Hunter had left pretty quickly after his delivery as far as Fitz could remember, or had he stuck around? Fitz thought that he could remember Hunter touching his arm, then the small of his back, and he could recall hearing Hunter's voice telling him to take a break at some point, okay? Fitz was going to wear himself out and then he'd be no good to anybody, Hunter included.

Fitz looked down at his hands, they weren't shaking. His mind had stayed focused on the projects and it felt good, strong, like things were making sense, like nobody was looking at him like he wasn't himself, like he couldn't do anything.

If Simmons had appeared at the fringes of his vision, wanting to help, Fitz had tried to ignore her. Her advice had registered though and he might have followed it once or twice. His right little finger flickered. He closed his eyes and breathed and refocused. Simmons wasn't there, she'd gone on assignment. She'd taken the first opportunity to get away from him.

His finger flickered again and Fitz dropped a screwdriver, the noise was loud and Simmons was still there.

His breathing chuntered and heaved. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to get hold of any air again. He was fine, he wasn't, he was...there was a voice tickling at the edge of his concentration, he clung onto that instead.

"So Tasha's taking Cap duty and I'm here to check in, on both counts."

Fitz took a deep breath, then another. He recognised the voice, he angled his head so that he could see past a couple of the white-coated shadows who'd been murmuring and watching as he'd worked. He'd seen them, probably thinking that they could do a better job and take his place in the lab and on the Quinjet. Well they couldn't and he couldn't hear Simmons telling him to go and say hello to Clint. He couldn't.

Clint Barton, mercenary, assassin and still one of SHIELD's best covert agents despite having been plastered all over the news after New York, was settling down in one of the Playground's comfier chairs. Fitz had started lingering more in that area of the base recently, not sitting or relaxing but lingering. It hadn't felt too bad, even if he had felt a couple of absences – Simmons and Ward – extremely sharply. Whenever they got too sharp, he left abruptly for the lab.

Now, he moved out of the lab instead, watching as May, Trip, Mack and Skye chatted to Clint. Hunter was there too, trying to identify Clint, asking questions and listening. Fitz felt a soft hand at his back, he sank into the touch for a moment, two, then pulled away abruptly. Simmons wasn't there, Simmons and Ward weren't there, they weren't laughing and joking with everyone else. Simmons was away doing SHIELD business and Ward was...Ward was...

"Drink?"

Mack's voice was quiet and his eyes were concerned but there wasn't any pity in them. Fitz looked at him for a long moment to check, then abruptly accepted the beer. May and Skye were both glancing at him in a way that made his skin prickle and itch but he forced himself to focus on Mack.

"Thanks."

Mack nodded and moved away towards the door, not asking any more questions, not hanging around or occupying Fitz's personal space. Mack was solid and honest and so completely Simmons' type it wasn't even funny. That was fine, Mack was fine, useful, he was useful. The questions he asked when working with Fitz weren't stupid exactly, they were just simple and yet somehow helped Fitz bridge everything together when his words were, when they weren't, when he couldn't verbalise his thoughts like he used to. And Mack talked about vehicle engines like he could understand them, like how Fitz felt about his bots and weaponry.

Clint was telling a story, something about a jungle and what hiding out for days when covered in viscous mud was like. His gaze took in Fitz, he looked a bit questioning but he didn't say anything. Fitz let out a breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He didn't want to explain again that his friend, someone that he'd thought was his friend, had tried to kill him, that his other friend had run off to do SHIELD's work because she hadn't been able to stand working beside him any longer.

"It doesn't taste that bad."

Hunter wasn't standing close and his voice was quiet but Fitz heard him. Everyone else probably did too but they were just glancing towards Fitz and Hunter before looking away. Fitz looked determinedly at his beer bottle for a moment as Hunter took deliberately noisy steps closer. Then Fitz flickered a glance up towards him and down again. Hunter left a little inch of space between them, he was standing there casually like any movement he made wasn't a big deal, like he wasn't being incredibly thoughtful and considerate. Fitz sort of sagged towards him and Hunter narrowed the gap so that their shoulders touched. Fitz closed his eyes for a moment, he could trust that touch. Hunter was there and was always, often brutally, honest. Fitz could rely on Hunter's touch, on what he'd recently done for SHIELD, even if he didn't know enough about the mercenary to rely completely on his character yet in every situation.

Coulson was being a lot more careful now about who could be part of this newly-embryonic version of SHIELD that he was building. He had done a lot of checks into Hunter, Skye had helped with them. She'd been vastly extensive. That helped.

Hunter didn't wrap an arm around Fitz or say anything hideously embarrassing or do or say anything that Fitz still sometimes expected out of him in moments like this. Hunter was usually bolshy and he said things that Fitz would never have dreamed of saying, even before, but he was also good at understanding people in a way that Fitz never had been. He was good with Fitz.

The way he'd touched Fitz was a question, Fitz could recognise that because in some small way he was becoming okay at understanding Hunter. Hunter was checking that Fitz was all right in a way that didn't draw attention to either of them. Fitz wet his lips and took a sip of beer, then he sort of awkwardly folded his arms so that his hand touched Hunter's. Hunter caught hold of his fingers and rubbed along the skin and bone like he was memorising Fitz. Maybe he was, maybe that was important.

Fitz swallowed and then drank more beer.

Clint was still talking, swapping stories with Trip and flirting with Skye in a way that made her laugh and May smile, in a non-terrifying way. Clint didn't look like he'd been injured so he wasn't here for medical attention. He looked tired though, there were bags under his eyes, and his black and dark purple clothing didn't seem to be in great condition.

"The sonar worked," Clint said suddenly, or at least it felt sudden to Fitz as Clint looked towards him. "Tasha was impressed."

"How could you tell?" asked Trip, had he met Natasha before?

Clint smirked and drained his beer. "She didn't break it down to its component parts."

May asked how Natasha was, Fitz had seen them sparring together before, it'd been a very stimulating experience. Of course May and Natasha were friends, May was unnerving enough on her own, wasn't she? It was sort of comforting too, knowing that those two had worked together and liked each other. That seemed more important than a lot of things.

"She also offered to help clear out your basement problem," Clint added, his expression placid. "You know, in case the boss can't."

There was a tense but then thoughtful silence. May nodded, as though she was accepting the offer or maybe like she was going to call Natasha if Ward got...if Coulson couldn't get...Fitz's grip on his beer bottle increased. He'd tried to kill Ward and he still didn't regret that. Skye looked upset, like she always did when people talked about Ward, but she wasn't protesting the idea.

When Clint said 'clear out', did he mean getting Ward transferred or did he mean assassination or torture or both? Clint was looking at Fitz, analysing him no doubt. Every field agent had that stare, but Clint and Natasha and May seemed to have sharper eyes, eyes that saw more. Fitz managed to look back. Clint didn't look pitying, he hadn't said or done anything that'd made Fitz feel like he was being treated like something fragile or stupid. He appreciated that, he didn't know how to say that though. So he just stared.

He thought suddenly about the New York reports he'd read. Clint had been compromised, as in a god called Loki had brainwashed him. He'd helped almost destroy SHIELD that day, he'd killed people, maybe people he'd known. He knew what it was like to not be who he once was. Maybe that was why he looked tired, maybe that was why he looked at Fitz like that.

Maybe if something happened, if Ward started causing trouble again, maybe Coulson wouldn't be able to do what needed to be done. Fitz was suddenly fiercely glad of Clint's offer. He didn't know what he really wanted to happen to Ward but he knew that options were a good thing.

Hunter's side was still touching Fitz's though their hands had fallen away from each other by now. He was looking at Clint like he was trying to work something out.

Then, "Wait, Natasha. Natasha Romanov, she works for SHIELD?!"

Skye grinned and Trip laughed, "How bad did she beat you, man?"

"Broken ribs heal easily, that's not the point. You're telling me that _Natasha Romanov_ is SHIELD."

Hunter sounded like he couldn't believe it. Even May looked amused, sharing a loaded glance with Clint. Fitz took a sip of beer before speaking.

"She probably broke your ribs so that you'd have trouble breathing, then it'd be easier for her to track you."

Trip gave Fitz an impressed look and Clint raised his bottle towards Fitz, "You remembered, she'll like that."

Hunter looked at Fitz, "You're friends with Natasha Romanov?"

Hunter's tone was incredulous but the others were smiling and they weren't laughing at Fitz.

"This is good, Fitz," Simmons was quiet but encouraging, right at his elbow. "This is bonding, go on."

He jerked his arm away from her, his mouth open to retort but then Hunter's expression curved with silent concern and Fitz didn't want that, he didn't want the others to notice and to start _looking_ at him. So he cleared his throat and concentrated on Natasha, Agent Romanov. She's been terrifying and really beautiful, he'd stared quite a lot and hadn't been able to do much coherently. Some things hadn't changed at all, that thought was bitter and dark.

"She talked to me," he said at last, focusing on his bottle.

"There was more than one conversation," corrected Clint, motioning his bottle towards Fitz. "And they weren't all small talk."

Hunter curled up an eyebrow but Fitz nodded, his throat clogged, because he'd read files and heard a lot of stories about Natasha and had seen a few of them in action. Yet somehow he'd managed to talk to her a couple of times, just about little things, stuffed Oreos and half a ballet that Fitz had watched on television. The conversations hadn't seemed important at all. Clint was looking at him though, Fitz frowned and looked back. He was grateful and bewildered because he'd only met Clint and Natasha a handful of times but Coulson absolutely trusted them and May did too and Skye had done enough research to justify that faith – because they even had to investigate some of SHIELD's top assets now, just in case. They literally could never be too careful.

It was strange though, to say the least, to be considered maybe a friend by Natasha and maybe Clint too. They had to protect themselves all the time. It was good to have trustworthy highly-skilled people around him who felt that way, it was good.

Was Simmons with people she could rely on? Were any of them trustworthy? Were they friends?

He caught a glimpse of her, in the lab doorway, watching him with an encouraging look. He drank her in for a moment then jerkily tuned back into the nearby conversation just in time to hear Hunter throw a few jibes at Clint about his wedding ring, asking if his wife was okay with Clint's 'relationship' with Natasha. Skye laughed and May smiled as she left the room.

"Okay, feel like I'm missing something here," murmured Hunter.

"When Tasha beat you down, she was working for someone else. You both get paid by the same guy now but she'll still probably aim to break more of your ribs."

Hunter's hand strayed to his chest, rubbing a phantom pain probably. Fitz thought about laving his tongue against the skin there. He'd remember to do that later, if he was able to.

"Noted but I'd rather not be on any more SHIELD agents' shitlists."

Clint turned a questioning eye towards Skye who replied with amusement. "He shot me and May."

"And me," pointed out Trip.

"But you're not holding a grudge, are you, mate?"

Hunter wilted at the long answering stare that he got from Trip. "Okay, moving on, so why would Romanov want to break more of my ribs?"

"Maybe because she's talked to you before?"sniped Skye.

"And maybe she'd find being accused of adultery offensive," added Clint. "She's also sick of people assuming that we're together."

"That's cold," laughed Trip, helping himself to another beer.

"Ah, you go on enough undercover missions as a couple, you share enough safehouse beds..."

Clint sounded completely casual about the whole thing but Hunter pointed at him, "Right and your wife's fine with that, is she?"

Skye pressed her lips together, darting an amused look towards Fitz. Yes, it was funny that Hunter didn't know. Fitz's lips twitched, just a bit. Skye's smile broadened. Trip handed Clint a beer and clinked his own against it.

"It's nice not being the new guy around here anymore," he announced. "Somebody else's asking all the dumb questions."

"Oy! I don't see why asking-."

"Barton."

Coulson entered the room, giving Clint a brief onceover. Clint raised his bottle towards Coulson, his smile warm. "Beer, sir?"

"Maybe later, once you've given your report. Romanov?"

"With Rogers and Wilson. No sign yet, she thinks they'll be going dark once they hit the border. She'll send an update when she can. We've agreed I'll hit protocol if nothing's communicated within forty-eight hours."

Coulson nodded and Clint got to his feet. "I'll be going after her myself, sir."

"I'd expect nothing less. Meanwhile despite publicity and reports, Hill thinks that Stark's still tinkering."

"We never believed he stopped, sir."

Coulson smiled, a little bit, and then headed out of the room, Clint close behind. Skye watched them with a softened smile, before calling after them, "I'll see you on the range, Hawkeye. Don't forget your promise."

Clint raised his beer without turning around. Hunter froze for a second and then, "Hawkeye? Barton's Hawkeye!?"

Trip laughed, "Let me guess, he broke your ribs too?"

Hunter hiked up the edge of his t-shirt, "No, the fucker grazed me with a bullet right here. I had to get stitches."

Skye and Trip's replies were synchronised, "You probably deserved it."

They grinned at each other, and Hunter shook his head, "Unbelievable. I've joined a company full of people who've already all tried to kill me."

Fitz put his beer down and his next words actually slipped out without any thought, "Wouldn't that be most people you've met anyway?"

Hunter didn't look offended, in fact he looked almost delighted. Which was weird. "Oh thanks a lot, you're supposed to be on my side, aren't you?"

Fitz opened his mouth, trying to find the right words, but Hunter ploughed on, which was good of him, "It's all right, you can make it up to me by explaining whatever the private joke is about Barton's wife."

Skye was laughing behind her tablet and Trip was shaking his head again. Fitz didn't know if it was that funny, maybe it was. Maybe his sense of humour had holes in too. And Fitz was grateful to Hunter for a lot – for not expecting him to fix everything, for not looking at with him with pity or derision, for not treating Fitz much differently to how he treated everyone else, for touching Fitz in just the right way when Fitz needed it and for stepping back when Fitz asked him too. Fitz shook his head. SHIELD didn't have the levels system anymore but this was amusing and almost fun, it tickled at Fitz, for a moment anyway.

Skye raised her eyebrows encouragingly. Fitz quickly shrugged, he could feel Hunter's close warmth. It was nice.

"That's classified," he managed to say.

"Barton's marriage is classified?"

Trip started telling a story about someone that he'd met in Yugoslavia whose entire personal life had been covered by the country's official secrets act. Hunter cut in because according to him, he was pretty sure that he'd been there at one time with his wife and apparently that was a marriage that should have been classified ("I wish it had been, then we wouldn't have to hear about it so damn much," was Trip's opinion).

Simmons said-No, she didn't say anything. Fitz picked up his beer, to stop his hands from shaking. He concentrated on Skye's typing, on the fact that Clint was here which made Fitz feel safe and Clint would keep Coulson safe too so that was good. Fitz concentrated on the cold bottle that Mack had given him and on Hunter's warmth, solid and still attractive next to him.

He was aware of Simmons' presence but he didn't look at her. He didn't. He didn't speak but he concentrated.

_-the end_


End file.
